the sheer force of the sky
by emptyvessels
Summary: the ten ways craig knows ellie nash.


Dedicated to my darling fellow Crellie-nut Nicole (CrashAgainstMySkin). I am so sorry. You deserve so much better than this (I will secretly enjoy your tears). I hope everyone enjoys!

I do not own Degrassi, trust me. The title and lyrics come from "The Lightning Strike Parts" by Snow Patrol

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**the sheer force of the sky (or the ten ways craig knows ellie nash)**

_"I want to see you as you are now every single day that I am living."_

i.

The first time he saw Ellie Nash, her hair was a dozen different colors.

She was a different person then, cautious and guarded, but full of this spark. This spark that both demanded attention and scared it away, even if she didn't say a word. He didn't know this girl, not really, but there was this sadness in her eyes, a far away kind of sadness that you couldn't quite see but you could tell was there, looming close on the soft green horizon of her gaze.

She only wore black then, with the occasional shade of grey mixed in on days she was feeling more carefree, and fishnet stockings she couldn't possible feel comfortable in. Dark, smudgy makeup and piercings finished off her bad girl image, though really she was no tougher than a litter of newborn kittens. Maybe a litter of _tired and hungry_ kittens if you caught her on a bad day.

And this was his first impression of Ellie Nash.

ii.

Over the years, the girl's look softened. She traded in the rebellious streaks of colors for a natural shade of red, worn often in two braided pig tails, an almost obvious attempt at trying to rough up how small she felt inside. She wore much less makeup, which suited her features considerably more. The sadness on the horizon of her eyes had finally come into full view. She kept the combat boots and fishnets as armor.

He didn't know this girl either. Really only caught glimpses of her through other people – Ashley and Marco and Sean. They barely ever even spoke. But he noticed these things in her, these painfully significant reminders of an emptiness in himself that he tried desperately to ignore.

iii.

He really came to know her – truly know her- about a year later. She'd traded in the pig tails for a longer, sleeker style; a significant moment in her transition from a young, cautious, broken girl to the woman he knew. He recognized the sadness in her eyes as it reflected his own, almost perfectly; two wrongs in a world trying desperately to make them right again, as if they ever were or ever could be.

When she first invited him to attend her group therapy sessions, he hesitated. The last thing he wanted to do was sit in a room filled with other sickos and freaks, admit that he belonged among them, and divulge his deepest secrets and fears. But for some reason, some reason he can't really remember but attributed to her and Joey and Angie and wanting to have a chance at becoming a better person, he'd agreed.

The group was welcoming and over time, he realized that he'd found his place. Not with these other people, no, though he'd grown to like them all just fine. But with this girl. This peculiar, evolving, incredibly complicated girl. Two wrongs making a _whole_.

Had he been paying attention then, he would have noticed right away that over the summer they'd spent together, she'd transitioned from vulnerable and small to confident and strong. She'd traded in her combat books for basic black flats and her fishnet stockings for dark wash jeans. Had he noticed then, he'd have taken credit for this changed, just self-centered and narcissistic enough to think that his friendship had been what brought her out of her shell.

He knew now that this could not be further from the truth. While their relationship had undeniably helped and meant a lot to the both of them, Ellie had become stronger through her own will. No one was forcing her to get better anymore; she was staying well all on her own. She'd learned through her pain and her courage to seek help how to slay her own demons and keep them dead. She was who he wanted to become.

There was one moment that stuck out, an unnaturally sweltering summer day at the beginning of August. All of the power on Craig's block had gone out at around noon and by two o'clock, the two of them were spread out on the floor of his garage. Craig was in a t-shirt and a pair of board shorts, his guitar laying idly on the floor next to him as he was too hot to even be bothered to strum a few chords. Ellie had finally shed her last layer of excess clothing, a thin, almost sheer dark grey cardigan that had long since begun to cling to her skin.

Before he could help it, his eyes trailed down to her arms – rarely exposed, seeing them bare like that was almost like seeing her naked. It was strange. The scars on her arms and wrists were there, but beginning to fade, so subtle a shade of pink that it was almost as if they were never really self-inflicted open wounds. Almost, but not quite.

He said so. "They're fading. Your scars." It wasn't out of the ordinary for either of them to talk about these things, not with each other.

She looked down and grazed her hand over the blemishes on her left arm.

"Kind of," she said, her voice calm and contemplative. This was followed by a long pause. "But not really," she spoke again, her tone unchanging. "I don't know if I would want them to, though."

Up until that moment, he'd always defined healing – true healing – as moving on and gradually forgetting about the pain. After all, how could anyone ever truly be happy knowing that kind of hurt? How can anyone be strong when they're still damaged?

But Ellie knew healing means remembering that pain, carrying it with you always and allowing yourself to be strong enough, _brave_ enough to carry on with your life. He'd never thought about it from that perspective, but she helped him finally understand, whether she realized it or not.

It is a widely shared belief that once you love someone, you know it. But Craig knew that couldn't always be true either. He did not know it then (as he still wasn't really paying attention), but this was the exact moment he had fallen in love with her, with the certainty she wasn't sure she possessed, and all of the other contradictions she embodied.

iv.

Leaving her behind was of the stupidest things he ever had to bring himself to do, which in itself was ironic in ways; he _wouldn't_ have left at all had it not been for her encouragement. She wore her hair in soft curls that framed her face the day they said goodbye for the first time. There was a sadness in her eyes then too, but one of a different kind. One brought on by all of the stupid choices he'd made that year, from dating Manny again to taking her advice when she told him to go and chase this impossible dream of his.

He turned and watched her walk away before he jumped in the car that would lead him down a long and winding way from home. The moment seemed to move in slow motion, but it was still over too quickly.

As he sat in the front passenger seat and watched the road ahead of him unfold, he made a mental note to thank her for pushing him.

It was then he realized, with his girlfriend riding in the back seat to see him off at the airport, exactly what that peculiar, evolving, complicated girl meant to him.

v.

While he was away, they kept in touch – through email, phone calls, text messages – but it wasn't the 't really enough. There was an unexpected void he felt from not having her around, a longing much different from the way he longed for the other people in his life.

Although he knew her feelings for him, at one point, had been more than friendly, he had no idea that she would still feel the same way about him now. So he ignored these feelings. They would go away in time. It was probably just the loss of something familiar, something that has helped him through so much, that was making him feel this way. Like trying to kick a habit, trying to unlearn a fixed behavior, it was not going to be easy.

vi.

Their next encounter was less than favorable, to say the least.

While he had been the way, he had managed to kick the habit of Ellie Nash and in its place found another vice – the life and habits of a rock star.

He convinced himself he was in control of his addiction; that it wasn't even an addiction, really. The high helped him on stage, made him invincible, or at least feel that way. It was the closest to God he'd ever felt, on stage and on top of the universe. That's how he would describe it later in rehab.

The last thing he'd ever wanted to do again was hurt the people he loved most – he promised himself this after he began seeking treatment for his bipolar disorder. If he could help it, he would never snap or go over the edge again. With this new addiction of his, that is exactly what he had managed to do.

Not only did he manage to alienate his girlfriend (though, in all honestly, she was smart to have gotten out when she did) and break the hearts of the only real family he had ever known, he'd managed to shatter the Ellie Nash he had grown to respect. The strong, cautious, peculiar girl who loved him had succumbed to a mere nothing in his defense, wrecking her own relationships and losing herself in attempt to give him more credit than he ever deserved. She tried to protect him, tried to save him for a second time, and in the end, all of her efforts fell short.

His feelings for her, still there and buried deep inside, were not enough to save him from his own choices. _She_ was not enough.

The Ellie Nash he'd returned home to was happy, and for the first time, it seemed genuine. Content with her life, in a committed relationship, and doing exactly what she was meant to be doing.

The Ellie Nash that left him at the airport was almost unrecognizable. So much like the girl in the fishnet stockings and combat boots; so small and so vulnerable and so distant.

vii.

The Ellie Nash he meets in L.A. is caught in between two people – the scared, cautious girl in combat boots and the strong, confident woman she'd always wanted to be. She is guarded, still haunted by demons and a heavy heart, but she is wiser, more self-aware, and confident, even.

He didn't fail to notice all of these positive changes happen without him this time.

Their reunion is a hazy, tangled mess of heartache and forgiveness that meant absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. And when he let her go this time, it wasn't goodbye. When it hurt like hell to see her turn away from him and disappear into the crowd, it was for the right reasons; the kind of sadness he didn't mind feeling, no matter how much he tried to wish it away.

But they were too much a part of each other's lives, too much embedded in each other, for goodbye to ever really _mean_ goodbye – so he sees her off with a few long-overdue kisses and a whispered promise of _someday_.

viii.

He doesn't see her again for almost two years. By then, he's sure their window had closed. They'd kept in touch, as promised, but each of their lives had gone on without the other. It was natural that she wouldn't wait around for him.

So when she greets him with a friendly embrace and a smile too big for her face as she introduces him to handsome, young biochemistry major named Christian, he doesn't hesitate to force a smile in return and choke out a few pleasantries. Because what else could he do?

This time, he doesn't fail to notice that the shine had returned to her eyes when she looked at him or the way the corners of his mouth would twitch upwards at the sound of his name on her lips.

This time, when he has to leave and they say goodbye, he's afraid they actually mean it.

ix.

If you asked him to choose a favorite Ellie Nash, it would be the Ellie Nash he sees first thing when he opens his eyes in the morning, whether she is right there next to him, still lost in her own mind, or up and moving about their bedroom in a hurry to start her day.

When they say goodbye, it's usually never for more than a few hours.

He watches the way she walks out the door in the morning, full of life and purpose. This is the Ellie Nash he always knew she wanted to be – witty and passionate and brave and _strong_. It had taken her years of trying on different masks and tasting different poisons, but she was finally content and he (finally) got to be a part of it, a part of her again, and for _good_. It was almost too much for him to think about, and he often found himself having to take a step back. But they were here now – together – and things were _right_.

A pair of near-strangers thwarted into each other by forces out of their control and a fresh beginning made up of broken endings. Two wrongs making a whole.

x.

The last time he sees Ellie Nash isn't the last time. Not really. She's still everywhere he turns and has proven to him that she has no intention of going anywhere any time soon; persistent even after the fact.

Haunted as he is, he's glad for it – he can't bring himself to think of her and see only colorless cheeks and stillness. He wants to see her curled up in her little corner of the living room, reading a book. He looks forward to waking up every morning and seeing her standing in the bathroom as she readied herself for another day she wouldn't have, or spread out across the floor on her computer with the dog snoring at her feet.

All logic tells him it isn't healthy; he should try to move on and find his own peace, but he doesn't care. He's never been the poster child for mental health anyway, and he's managed to make it this far (of course, most would argue that that's mainly credited to her, but he doesn't like to think of it that way).

He's been without her before. Plenty of times. In fact, they may have spent more time apart than together. But even when things seemed the most dire, he knew it'd never been permanent before. And even then, they were bound to each other somehow. One entity separated by miles and pride and sometimes betrayal.

The better part of him knows the truth, but he continues living the only way he knows how: tied to her.

_"What if this storm ends? And I don't see you as you are now ever again?"_


End file.
